


Small Town Song

by startswithhope



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Captain Cobra - Freeform, Captain Swan AU Week, Captain Swan AU Week 2016, Cursed Emma, F/M, New York City Serenade, Season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S3 Canon Divergence - What if things don’t go quite as planned outside of the police station in NYC? What will it take to make Emma believe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Town Song

“Trust your gut, Swan, it will tell you what to do.” **  
**

“Henry always says that.”

“Then if you won’t listen to me, listen to your boy.”

There’s a brief moment, a flicker really, where it seems as though she will take the vial from his outstretched fingers. But, her hand freezes in mid-air as her gaze drops to her feet and he knows she’s chosen not to believe.

“I’m sorry, I just...I can’t.”

He lets her run. If he’s learned anything of her up until now it’s that pushing won’t get him anywhere. She has to decide this on her own. As he watches the red of her jacket (the wrong red, but red nonetheless) disappear around the corner he does his best to not let defeat crush his quest. He’s waited a bloody year to see this woman again and he’s not about to give up. One thing over two centuries of chasing the same goal has taught him is patience, especially in the face of insurmountable odds.

“Excuse me?”

Recognition has the tiny hairs along his neck rising before he even turns towards the young voice at this back.

Henry. He’s grown a few inches, the chubbiness of his cheeks less prominent and his stance more confident that Killian remembers it being before. The lad is not a little kid anymore.

“Henry?”

“How do you know me and my Mom?”

“Lad, it’s a long and complicated tale. It might be best to ask Emma. I wouldn’t want to…”

“No. I know she’s keeping something from me. I saw the photos as they were printing at the drugstore. And I watched her talking to you just now. What’s Storybrooke? Why can’t I remember ever being there?”

Killian is frozen with indecision. He knows it’s bad form to pull Henry into this without Emma’s permission, but he can’t ignore the possibility standing before him. Henry is the Truest Believer. He has helped Emma believe in magic before, perhaps he is the only one to be able to do it again?

“Well, Henry, do you believe in magic?”

“Of course I do. But one question, first. Why are you dressed like that?”

Forgetting for a moment that he has more important things to worry about, Killian can’t help the sarcasm from dripping off his tongue in response to the lad’s obvious disdain of his dashing attire.

“Why are YOU dressed like _that_?”

* * *

The small hand on his brass pocket watch sits firmly at eight, the large clicking into place at three as his knuckles rap soundly on Emma’s door. He hopes Henry has succeeded in convincing her to drink the potion and they are both ready for the journey back home, to Storybrooke that is. Henry had proven to be just the ally he needed, believing his story with very little questions as if there was a part of him already filling in the blanks. Emma, he knows, will be the one to have needed a bit of liquid courage to reach the same conclusion.

She doesn’t even give him a chance to speak before he finds himself pinned to the wall with her forearm pressed hard against his throat.

“Where is my son?”

There’s fire sparking in the jade of her eyes, fear, anger, panic all mingling in a fierce beauty he’s missed to the depths of his soul. He just wishes he had any idea what she was talking about, and, that she would let up on his windpipe a bit so he could catch a breath.

With some difficulty, he manages to choke out a few words. “Swan...what? Henry?”

Her arm relaxes an inch and he gasps air into his lungs, noticing for the first time that her other hand is pressing his hook against the wall by his head, one of her legs positioned precariously between his ready to strike if needed.

“Yes, Henry. Where is he?”

“On my life, I’ve no idea, love. He told me to be here at 8:15 this morning.”

Her eyes narrow as her gaze pierces him to the core, the silence punctuated by her gradual lessening of pressure against his throat until her hand falls to rest on his shoulder and her eyes shut in frustration.

“You’re not lying.”

“No, Swan, I’m not.”

He wants to reach out, to press his thumb against her temple, his forehead against her furrowed brow. He wants a lot of things when it comes to this woman. For now, what they need is more important, and that is, apparently, to find Henry.

“What happened, Emma?”

Her eyes open at hearing him say her name with such familiarity, but she doesn’t look surprised, more contemplative if he had to choose a word. Her hands drop to her sides and she takes a step backwards towards her still open door, leaving him immediately longing for her touch again. It’s been so long.

“We fought last night over your nonsense and he drank whatever was in that vial you gave him and started spewing even crazier stuff than you had. I sent him to his room after I was sure he wasn’t poisoned. When I went to wake him this morning he was gone.”

Well, the lad certainly has a flair for the dramatics. He’d can’t fault him for that.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I promise, I never imagined Henry would take the potion himself. This is not at all what we had planned.”

“The fact that you were making plans with my son at all is something we will deal with later. Right now, I just need to find him.”

“Aye, did he leave anything behind?”

She doesn’t answer right away, instead once again regarding him with an air of distrust. Beginning to feel a bit on display, his hand reaches of its own accord to scratch behind his ear, a nervous tick he’s tried unsuccessfully to quell for centuries. Her eyebrows lift slightly and he wonders if perhaps she’s had a flash of recognition.

“Come in, I’ll..yeah, let me show you.”

_Perhaps he was right?_

Her spine is still rigid as he follows her into her apartment, the heels of her boots loud against the wooden floor as she leads him into the life he hasn’t been a part of for over a year. She stops at the long table in the center of the room and points to a sheet of paper with one of the photos she had shown him on top. Heeding her wordless request, he picks up both.

He’s not surprised to see that the photo is the one of her and Henry sitting outside of Granny’s, all smiles with “Storybrooke” scrawled on the wall behind their heads. Looking up at Emma, he sees that her hip is now resting along the edge of the table and her arms are folded tight over her chest, looking as closed off as ever.

“I take it he didn’t think these were forged as you did?”

“Obviously not. Read the note.”

Doing his best not to wince at the sharp edge with which she speaks, he takes a deep breath to remind himself of how long it took her to trust him the first time around. Having already decided long ago that she’s worth the wait, he does his best to rebalance his expectations. Shuffling the paper atop the photo, he focuses on the hastily scrawled writing Henry left behind.

> _Mom,_
> 
> _First, I’m ok. I just went home, to Storybrooke. There’s a bus that can get me close and I’ll get a cab to take me the rest of the way. Or, to the town line at least. Sorry about the cash I took from your purse. Anyway, Hook will be there at 8:15, so don’t take off looking for me until he gets there. You are going to need his help._
> 
> _You have to trust him, Mom. He’s telling you the truth. He’ll get you home._
> 
> _You just have to believe._
> 
> _Love, Henry_

A small ache settles in his heart as the lad’s words spark memories of his once adventurous father all those years ago. For the first time, he finds himself hoping that Baelfire will be there in Storybrooke to greet his son, despite the complications that will add to his already overly complicated life.

“Turn it over.”

Emma’s voice pulls him from his musings and he does as requested, his lips curving into a wide smile at what he sees. There in black ink is a map, a quite detailed one at that. Henry had obviously done his research, using images and markings any good pirate would recognize to guide towards his treasure. The spot, of course marked by an X, is where Storybrooke resides, out of sight and not on any maps Emma might be able to procure.

Emma will need him to read this map. Henry is indeed a smart lad.

“Fancy a bit of an adventure, love?”

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't abandoned, just on hiatus. I've got plans to finish it!


End file.
